tagFetishCuckolded by 18 Year Old Girlfriend

Cuckolded by 18 Year Old Girlfriend


byaweatherly©

DISCLAIMER: This story features a loving couple participating in consensual female domination, cuckolding, humiliation, and cum-eating. If these themes offend you, feel free to discontinue reading now. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story.



If you'd asked me if I would want to watch my girlfriend fuck another man in front of me a year ago, I'd have promptly punched you in the jaw. The idea would have disgusted me, as I'd heard of cuckolds and thought that they had to all be subs, and maybe even closeted homosexuals.

That was until one evening, when my girlfriend turned to me and planted the seed in my brain while we were talking casually on my sofa: a simple sentence that would slowly grow to something more. "How would you feel if I got hit on on Saturday?"

"Well I wouldn't blame them," I replied, laughing.

"Hmm, okay," she responded, slowly stirring a mug of cocoa with a spoon between her gentle fingertips.

I watched her for a moment, trying to decipher her expression. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," she replied, "I've just never gone out on my own since we got together... I didn't really know how you'd want me to react."

"Well ignoring them would be a good idea," I said bluntly.

"Yeah I guess you're right," she said, and I thought that would be the last of it. But as I went to sleep that night, the reality of her, out on town in a hot little dress without me began to seep down lower into my subconscious. I began to feel a possessive urge rise up within me. I stifled it and pulled her closer to me, falling asleep with my face buried in her blonde hair.





A day passed and I was fucking her tight young 18-year-old pussy when I noticed a strange new glint in her eye. Leaning over her with all my weight, I pressed my hand hard against the mattress as I thrust into her. "What's that look about?" I asked her.

"Oh, nothing," she said coyly.

I moved my other hand from her hip and firmly placed my fingers around her throat. "Spit it out."

"Okay, okay," she gasped slightly, "I just was thinking about how you got all aggressive last night when I mentioned me, you know, getting attention."

It took me a moment to pick up on what she was referring to. "Yeah, well, of course. What, do you want me to like you getting hit on?"

"No, no, I just love how angry you got thinking about it," she said, looking into my eyes as though she were searching for something behind them. She took her hand and ran it up my thigh and gripped my hip tightly, manoeuvring it so I thrust deeper into her. "It makes me wonder how you'd react if a guy tried to kiss me at the club,"

"Kill him."

"- and I kissed him back."

I rammed into her harder at her words, quickening the pace of my thrusts and eliciting short, sharp breaths and moans from her. Her eyes sparkled in pleasure, her lips puckering in "Ooh"s. I angled my cock so it would hit her g-spot just right and she built to an orgasm. I felt her tight, wet pussy clench around my cock as she came.

"Why on earth would you want," I said between the hungered presses of her mouth against mine, "to kiss anyone else." I shuffled and pushed deeper inside her while I wrapped a hand around her throat. She whimpered in pleasure as she came again. I loved the feeling of her laboured breath slipping between my lips as she kissed me, her moans escaping inside my mouth.

"You're damn right," she said in the afterglow of her orgasm, her body relaxed.

After I finished, she gave me a hint of a cheeky smile. She almost glowed in the dim room. "What?" I asked her as I gathered my towel before heading to the shower.

"Just confirmed some suspicions," she mumbled coyly.

"Huh?"

She turned to me, her expression calm but with a slight undercurrent of excitement. "You fuck me harder when you're jealous," she smiled at me.

I ran my hand through my hair, disconcerted. "It's to teach you that you aren't missing out on anything."

She walked up to me, a confident bounce in her stride. "You'll have to remind me more often," she said, before planting a quick kiss on my lips.





Over the next few times I saw her, whenever we fucked, she would bring up Saturday night. "Should I wear that dress with the cut-outs, or the blue one with the cleavage?" she asked. She laughed at what must have been an expression of shock on my face.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am."

"Why this sudden desire to be a tart?"

"Why do you want me so much more when I am a tart?"

I'd been asking myself the same question for the past few days. Every time she hinted about getting danced with, or otherwise getting a guy's attention on the weekend, I just wanted to mark her as my own. The best way to do this was just to fuck her to the point where she was too sore and spent to even think about fucking anyone else. Not that she would fuck anyone else.



After she left my place on Friday night, I hit up Google. "Why do I get so turned on thinking about my girlfriend fucking other men?" All of the results were talking about cuckolding. I felt my stomach drop. All I'd ever seen of cuckolds on image board websites and seedy corners of the internet was pathetic guys who knew they were so unsatisfying to their girlfriends or wives that they just let her get with other men. They liked being humiliated about how their cocks weren't good enough for her, and they even sometimes ate the other man's cum. I definitely didn't want any of that.

Surely I'm not a cuckold, I thought. But I was curious now. I read a few cuckold-friendly threads and websites and eventually I found out about a select group of people who were like me. They were so turned on by their girlfriend being sexy and sexually liberated that they themselves got possessive of her, and having another guy interested in (or even fucking) their girl made them not only jealous, but physically competitive.

Reading further, I learned that it also made them fuck harder, it made them feel as though they were Superman, brimming with supernatural amounts of testosterone so they could out-compete any other guy in the arena. That was definitely how it made me feel when my girlfriend taunted me about other guys wanting to fuck her.

It was so fantastical an idea that she could enjoy another guy after me. I fucked my girl senseless; I knew I completely satisfied her. I knew I was attractive, and I was proud of my sexual history and conquests. So the idea of her fucking another guy, and really wanting to? I had to admit, it was hot. It would be like watching my girl, the hottest girl I'd ever seen, in a porn film but right before my eyes. The only way I'd be able to enjoy it though, was if I were restrained. Otherwise I'd just knock him out and fuck the shit out of her til she cried and begged for my forgiveness.

I wouldn't find it hot unless I had no choice, it had to be her choice, and she had to force it on me. Being cuckolded would be in direct contrast to my usual role as the dominant one in our relationship. The idea of being submissive to her was exotic. As much as I hated to acknowledge it, I grew secretly interested in her fucking someone else.





Though I'd been jealous knowing that other guys would be gawking at my girlfriend in her tight dress, nothing happened on that Saturday evening when she went out with her girlfriends. Regardless, I found myself getting off over a cuckolding erotic story while she was out.





One afternoon a few weeks later, she was using my computer to do banking or something. She'd innocently accessed the browser history and my exploration into cuckolding was revealed: several links to porn videos with variations of 'cuckold' in the title, as well as erotic stories. My heart jumped up into my throat. She turned and looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "What's this?" She pointed to the screen.

"You know what it is, porn." I smiled sheepishly, but felt my eyes fall to my feet.

"What's a cuckold?" She genuinely sounded curious. I took a deep breath.

"You know how it turns me on so much when you talk about dressing sexy and going out with your friends? And how my jealousy makes me fuck you harder?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. That's like, a thing. A common thing. And it's a fetish."

"A fetish? What like leather or something?"

"Sort of. Something extra, that you can add to, as they say, 'spice things up' in the bedroom."

"Like when middle aged people get bored of normal sex and start to pee on each other?" We both laughed.

"Yeah, that's one fetish." Sometimes I forgot that she was only 18, and not as well-versed in sex as I was. She fucked like a pocket rocket, but she was a virgin when I met her. She only knew what I'd taught her.

Her head cocked to the side and she screwed up her nose, more in consideration than aversion. "So how do they even make porn of guys getting jealous? Like I know when other guys want me, you want me more. But isn't that more of like, an emotional thing? Like you describe it as a kick in the guts and a desire to fuck me at the same time, right? I don't get how you can make that into a video."

I swallowed. "It can get a lot more hardcore than the girl just going out looking sexy, then coming home and getting taught who's boss."

"How so?"





I showed her a couple of the tamer videos, of a girlfriend or wife having sex with another man in front of her partner. She read a story about first-time cuckolding. I was nervous, wondering how she'd take all this new, much more hardcore information. I hoped she'd accept that I was into it.

"Can I say something maybe a bit too honest?" She said as she finished the final page of the story.

"Anything. Honesty is the best policy."

She twirled her long, sandy blonde hair in her lithe fingers. "This is actually really fucking hot."

I felt a flood of glowing relief flow from my toes up to the top of my skull. "You really think?"

"Hell yes! Oh my god. If I'd have known you were into this stuff... wow, we could have had way more fun these past few months."

My heart raced with excitement. "How do you mean?"

"Well, um, I didn't want to say anything before... we're still kind of new in the scheme of things, so I didn't want to freak you out. But one of my biggest fantasies is to have a one-night stand. And since we got together, and I'm committed to you, and I don't wanna lose you, like ever... I kind of thought I'd never be able to do that. But..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes sparkling with the prospect.

She looked up at me with an expression that meant business. "You know, we don't have to do anything, if you don't want to. I'm not going to cheat on you just because you like the idea of me fucking other guys."

"I would hope you wouldn't, I get how it might seem like I do, but it's just a fantasy, and I want to be involved in it, if anything ever does happen."

"I get that." She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. We talked for a while longer about the logistics of her fantasies, and mine. As the conversation dwindled off and we went back to other things, I was anxious about this new freedom and power I was giving her to play with.





It didn't take long for my girlfriend to go from a fairly innocent and submissive girl, to an experienced and aggressive domme. I was shocked at how well she picked up using my cuckolding fetish to her advantage. It enhanced the fetish strongly that she genuinely used it as an excuse to tease me and make me share in her own desires (one night stands, enjoying other men, and getting angry-sex out of me). She went from being totally dependent on me sexually, to independent and exploiting me for her own pleasure, in the space of about three weeks.

Once she learned that I actually did like her dominating me, and I wasn't just screwing around with this fetish, she fell into her element. She copied my methods of tying her up and using her for my pleasure, reversing the roles easily. She learned to tie me to my bed more securely than I ever did with her. She did her own research and even, completely of her own accord, learned how to ruin my orgasms. The first time she did it, I was so stunned that I felt the mental equivalent of being winded.

"What the hell was that?" I'd said, as I recovered from the strange, dissonant sight of having watched myself spurt a load of cum without feeling any corresponding pleasure.

She just smirked at me.

"Seriously did you not notice that I just came and... just... felt nothing?"

She smirked even harder. "That's the whole point."

I looked at her incredulously. "You did that on purpose? How? Why?"

"Because when you're my sub, you need to know just how much power I have over you. You need to have something to be threatened with when you disobey me." She ran her hands over the cum that had landed in a puddle on my stomach. She lifted a small amount and brought it toward my mouth.

"Nope. No way."

"Eat it."

"You are completely deluded if you think for one second that I'm gonna eat my own cum."

"Look at yourself," she said, gesturing from my tied up feet to my wrists. "You're hardly in a position to refuse."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd created a monster. The worst part was, I knew if I even tried to manipulate her, she wouldn't budge. She was dead-set in domme mode, and I was nothing but her fun little toy to humiliate and exploit.

I clamped my mouth shut.

"If you don't eat it, I'm just gonna rub it all over your mouth. And I'll ruin your next orgasm as punishment."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, but I would. And you know I can now, too."

The sexy little brat.

I stuck out my tongue, fully intending to spit it out when she wasn't looking.

She laid the thick, white load on my tongue. "Swallow it."

I rolled my eyes.

"Swallow it, or I swear to god I'll leave you here until you can get off again, and then I'll build you and edge you for two hours, and then I'll make you think I'm gonna let you cum, and I will ruin it and you will feel," she paused dramatically, "absolutely nothing."

She stared me down. I swallowed it.

"You're a bitch."

"You love it."





Over a period of another few weeks, she grew very comfortable with making me eat my cum. Her preferred technique, used probably four out of every five times she dommed me, was making me eat my creampies out of her. She loved sitting on my face when I was tied up and couldn't refuse her, not that I ever would pass up a chance to lick her delicious, smooth little pussy. She loved it even more that I was eating my cum from her, something I had a huge aversion to and wouldn't ever even think of doing when she weren't forcing me into such a submissive headspace.

She began to piece together that I produced more cum when she brought up my cuckolding fantasies, and talked to me about them when I was eating my cum out of her, eventually pretending that I was eating another man's cum from her pussy.

It amazed me how well she could manipulate me into desiring to have my cuckolding fantasies become real. She would fuck me and edge me, and then jump off my cock and refuse to get back on until I begged her to fuck someone else on the weekend.

"Do you want me to find a guy to fuck on Saturday night?"

"No."

"You know the rules. No more pleasure until you say...?"

"Yes, yes, fuck." She'd ride me some more, her tight teen cunt caressing my swollen cock and building me to delirium. And then she'd remove herself from my cock again, leaving me desperate.

"I deserve another cock, don't I baby? Isn't it selfish to keep this amazing pussy all to yourself?"

"Yes," I said, needing her back on my cock more desperately with each passing millisecond.

"And will you eat his cum out of me when I get home like a good cuckold?"

"Yes."

"Good," she purred, lowering her tight pussy down, enveloping my cock and fucking it until I blew a thick, creamy load and coated her walls. The flavour of her juices combined with mine was addictive, so I didn't care so much when she played it up as another guy's cum.





A few more months passed, and brought me to the point where I was fully willing for her to fuck anyone she wanted. All that indulging her new cuckolding and old one-night-stand fantasies inevitably led to her desiring to push the boundaries further.

"Come out with me on Saturday," she said casually one afternoon.

"I thought that was a girls' night?" I replied, curious. On her occasional nights out with her girlfriends, she'd tease me when she got home with stories about all the guys who approached her, and how she teased them. She'd never asked me to come out on one of these nights before.

"It is..." Her large, blue eyes glanced away. "I'd like you to come anyway. I have an idea."

"What's your idea?"

"Um, you could shadow me. Go to the same places I go, watch me. I'll still dress up sexy. And you can see in person what I get up to. Who knows...? I might feel like doing naughty things knowing you're somewhere in the crowd."

I gulped. I felt a rush of excitement run through my chest, imagining my teen girlfriend, the closeted nympho, showing off for me.

"Like what, exactly?"

"Well, you'll see, won't you?" She turned to me with this sexy, teasing look in her eyes. "What do you say?"

"Count me in. But make it worth my time."

"Oh, I intend to."





Saturday came around, and as we got ready to go out, my girlfriend sipped on a glass of cheap wine. I couldn't help but drop my jaw as I stepped into the living room and laid my eyes on her hungrily. Usually short and cute, she was wearing thin, dark pink stilettos, and some black material that can best be described as an overambitious t-shirt.

The "dress" clung to each curve and nook of her body; her perky breasts and ass, and her toned, thin legs and stomach highlighted to perfection. Her usually straight, sandy blonde hair was wavy from the product in it, her big blue eyes made even larger by the thin black rim of eyeliner around them. Her lips were the kind of pink that made you crave seeing them wrapped around your cock.

"Well someone certainly isn't messing around," I said with a laugh as my eyes lingered on her cleavage.

"You know I don't bluff," she replied coyly, placing her glass on the table and sashaying over to me. She leaned in and gave me a long, lingering kiss. As she pulled away she said, "I'm not wearing any panties."

I bit my lip and grabbed the car keys. "Come on, you're gonna be late."





It didn't take long for me to wish I'd never agreed to her game. I dropped her off outside the first club of the night and watched her tight ass in her black dress as she walked toward the doors. The two bonehead bouncers' eyes were wide as they traced her figure. Her legs looked long and graceful in the stilettos. I ached to throw those legs over my shoulders. I wondered how on earth I'd last the whole night. I parked my car, had my wrist stamped by the bouncers, and walked through the doors five minutes after her.

The club was fairly small and intimate; the colourful lights dim as they rotated around the dance floor. The bar was illuminated, so it didn't take me long to spot my girlfriend. She leaned against the bar, her breasts barely contained by the thin, slick material of her dress. She was laughing with some of her girlfriends. I went to the opposite side of the bar, grabbed a beer, and watched her like a hawk. I scanned the room and noticed I wasn't the only guy with eyes for her. I counted ten guys who checked her out within the next few minutes. I felt a rush of adrenaline and gripped my glass as I saw one guy stride over to her. I felt the strongest urge to beat him to her, and call the game off with my girlfriend, but my curiosity helped to restrain me. I enjoyed seeing how she reacted to the attention. It was a strange feeling, watching her flirt so confidently with another guy. It was like seeing her in a new light. I wanted to catch her as though I'd just seen her for the first time again.

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